


The Scottish Play

by Microdigitalwaker



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Dick Pics, Loneliness, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 19:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Microdigitalwaker/pseuds/Microdigitalwaker
Summary: A treat.The tags say it all.Also, the Machine meddles in her dad's love life





	The Scottish Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everyone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyone/gifts).



 

It amuses Finch that by retiring, he's become even busier and that after he draws down the steel shutters guarding the front of his antique book store, it's often hours before he pads tiredly upstairs to the apartment he now calls home.  
  
Some may call dusting and arranging the shop's stock to be a chore but for Finch it's a joy.  The store's hours are whenever he wants and it also amuses Finch to imagine that this gives the place a magical air, as if the store may be summoned from the ether.  
  
He's thinking about getting a cat.  
  
Regardless of the hour, he's open for Lionel Fusco, who tends to show up exhausted, disheveled or sometimes merely bored and in need of caffeine and talk.   
  
Finch is starting to suspect that they both want more, especially when they sit so close as Finch reads from early folios of Shakespeare, never minding as Fusco falls asleep.  They've just finished Macbeth and Finch wonders is he should choose something lighter.   
  
*  
  
He's putting on the kettle when his phone explodes.  Not actually, which has happened, but ring tones signaling John, Shaw, Carl and Anthony, Leon, Logan, goodness, everyone but Fusco.  Harold starts reading:  
  
Reese: **'Are you ok, Harold?  Not to say that I'm not impressed but still...did you hit your head?'**  
  
Shaw: **What Doofus asked, was it a book?  A bookshelf?  Are you seeing double?  Blood???  We are on route.**  
  
  
Confused, Harold quickly texts them both, asking them to stay put.  They grudgingly agree.  Next:  
  
Elias:  **How charming!  Will you join us this Saturday for dinner?  Anthony insists.**  
  
Huh?  
  
Leon:  **Strictly into chicks but hey, YOLO.  Send me deets for meetup.**  
  
Logan Pierce's text is too filthy by far.  
  
Seeing nothing from Fusco, Finch delves deeper and what he finds makes him drop his phone.  
  
A photo, carefully cropped so that the man's face isn't in the picture.  A man of Finch's build, wearing Finch's clothes - his most colored trousers and his rust waistcoat with the subtle plaid and the little flounce.  Strong hands with plain, well-manicured fingers gripping an erection...  
  
Finch magnifies that portion of the image, which already takes center stage.  It's large, thick and long, with a delicately molded, prominent crown that's dark red and leaking pre-seminal fluid from the slit.  
  
He can see how the image is taken for him; honestly, it's quite flattering but it isn't him, full stop.  He uploads the image to his central station for analysis but it's acting quite badly and Finch is struck by the certainty that the Machine is behind this debacle.  Reasons to be determined.   
  
He texts everyone again and his explanation accepted, more or less.  Logan is not deterred, adding to his list of suggestions.  Finch sees that the photo has definitely been received by Fusco but to his old consternation, there's nothing from him, phone call or text.

*

It's over a week later whenr Fusco hurries inside the book store just as Finch is closing shop.  Outside it is raining cats and dogs and raindrops, like tiny diamonds, bead on Fusco's curls.

"You're here."

Fusco freezes in his tracks, frowning and blushing.  "Ohhh, ok.  I'll just be going...."

With strength that surprises them both, Finch grabs Fusco by the collar and hauls him to the little sofa.  "Stay!"

Finch comes back, tossing a towel at Fusco's head.  He returns with two steaming cups of tea.

They sip.

"You've been avoiding me."

Fusco tries to reply but can only shrug.  "At first I thought maybe it was a joke on me because of how I..."  He breaks off there, emptying his cup before resuming.  "Well, I figured, why would a good guy like you do something so mean, especially considering..."

Fusco's half expressed thoughts are maddening but Finch remains silent except to refill the cups.

"But then I started looking at it and I realized it wasn't you.  Or parts of it were definitely you but the situation wasn't you, like someone put it together to make it look like you were doing that."

Fascinated, Finch leans closer, his thigh pressing Fusco's and he can feel the steamy dampness of the rain and the heat of his body.  "How did you tell?"

"First, you're wearing your favorite suit."

"My favorite suit?"

"Ok, let's just say that when you wear it, I take notice.  You wouldn't risk that suit getting, uh, messed up.  You know, hit with the jizz.  You would have taken out your cufflinks and pushed up your sleeves for the same reason."

Fusco ducks his head, nervously worrying the towel in his hands.  "And...when I picture you masturbating, uh, it isn't like that."

"You...you think about me masturbating?" asks Finch, his heart thumping and he's breathing air that's suddenly too thin; he grabs Fusco's hand.  Fusco grabs back, equally hard.  Closing his eyes, Fusco nods, he doesn't see Finch lean in for a kiss.

For a man who appears so tough, perhaps even coarse, Fusco trembles as he delicately returns Finch's kiss. Kissing Fusco is like blowing a shimmeringsoap bubble in a lush summer garden, watching it come to rest on a peony blossom.

"Would you...would you like to see?" asks Finch.

"More than anything in the world," Fusco replies.  Standing, his erection is evident, as is Finch's.  "Lead on, MacDuff."

Beaming, Finch turns then stops.  "Grab the towel, my darling. I think we'll need it."


End file.
